There Is Not a Damn Thing Wrong

Sharing the miracle of this morning.

Photo by montatip lilitsanong on Unsplash

I woke up this morning, the house quiet, light filtering through the blinds. And this thought arrived out of nowhere:

There is not a damn thing wrong with my life.

It landed like a miracle, and I felt instantly at ease. The judgment lifted. The need to fix and control dissolved. I laid down my weapons, my worry, my striving.

The fight left my shoulders. I saw the flowers instead of the weeds. I noticed a wren on the little house that hangs from the tree in the backyard. I felt lifted out of my body and placed gently back on the earth. Safe. Steady. Sound.

There is not a damn thing wrong with my life.

This is different than I love my life or Everything is working out for me. It’s not a platitude. It’s a shift. A declaration. A truth that rearranges the inner landscape.

There is not a damn thing wrong.

All the struggle—to please, to achieve, to fill the retirement fund, to prove myself, to champion the cause, to eliminate every speck of dust—gone. In this moment, none of it needs to be carried.

There is not a damn thing wrong with me.

Of course, my ego immediately chimes in:

“But what about your fatigue? What about the emails you haven’t answered? The ugly thoughts you haven’t said? The people you’re letting down? The ways you’re disappointing yourself? What about… what about… what about…”

I hear it. And still I say:

There is not a damn thing wrong.

The beautiful friend who has been told she has an incurable disease. The family members who are struggling with the limitations of aging. The pets who have allergies and the trees that are brittle with age. The weeds and the wars and the lies and the legislation.

There’s not a damn thing wrong with the world.

I put on a new necklace this morning—one I bought yesterday. It seemed crooked at first. “Aha,” my ego whispered. “There’s something wrong.” But I slid the pendant gently along the chain until it rested in the center.

Balanced. Whole.

There is not a damn thing wrong.

My guidance is clear: Your bills will get paid. Your house will get cleaned. Your food will get made. Your laundry will get done. Your children will grow up. Your wounds will heal. Your world will regain its balance.

If you let them.

If you stop fighting and wearing yourself out over what’s not to love—and instead, love what is.

As I sat with this miracle of a morning, I felt peace rise in me like a tide. And joy, too. I realized something I didn’t know before:

Out of all the things I’ve wanted in this life, the deepest desire has always been this—to appreciate my life as it is.

There is not a damn thing wrong with my life.

The entire universe lives inside that sentence.

I share it with you because I believe, with my whole being, that there’s not a damn thing wrong with your life either.

I know our egos will protest.

“But what about the retirement fund? The grass that won’t grow? The endless To Do list? The people who are suffering? The friend on drugs? The rising heat? The evolving AI? The lies? The abused children? The world that’s afraid?”

I hear it. I see it.

And I hear and see something else:

None of it needs to be fixed. It just needs to be loved.

We can do that. Together. With spiritual help. Every day.

Sometimes we’ll forget. We’ll go back to fixing and judging and controlling and fighting and blaming. We’ll convince ourselves that everything is wrong.

But we’ll remember.

We’ll remember on a cool July morning, with the birds singing and the weeds growing and the husband and grandson sleeping and the distant sound of traffic as people head off to begin their day.

“It’s too easy,” my ego will say. “You and Pollyanna, you have this thing going on.”

But no. This morning, I look beyond all my grievances, beyond the arrows I aim at myself—and I see with the eyes of the heart.

As a friend once said:

“I love it all, because love is all I’ve got.”

And that, I know, is more than enough.

With blessings,
Deb

An invitation to my paid subscribers…

On July 26, I’ll be hosting an event in Winterset, Iowa, along with my fellow Iowa Collaborative writers and Winterset residents Marianne Fons and Vicki Minor.

We’re thrilled to welcome Art Cullen, Pulitzer Prize–winning columnist, for a special screening of a documentary about his family’s newspaper in Storm Lake, Iowa. The film will play in the beautifully restored Iowa theater—popcorn guaranteed—followed by a celebratory reception in The Livery with plenty of snacks, conversation, and community spirit.

Join me, Marianne, Vicki, and Iowa Writers’ Collaborative members Barry Piatt, Wini Moranville, Laura Belin, Connie Taylor, Julie Gammack, Art Cullen, Chuck Offenburger, Jane Nguyen, Robert Leonard, Sarah Scull, Rekha Basu, Cheryl Tevis, Tej Dhawan, Dan Henderson, Joan Zwagerman, Alison McGaughey, and perhaps a surprise few more!

Please let us know if you and your guest can attend so we can stock up on popcorn and refreshments. You’ll leave with dozens of new friends, fresh inspiration, and maybe even the next great story idea. We can’t wait to see you there!

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A NOTE TO MY READERS: I write “A World of Your Own” as a member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative, which is led by Julie Gammack, of Des Moines. I’m honored to be part of this group, featuring the diverse voices of more than 70 professional writers and journalists across the state of Iowa. I encourage you to check out their columns.